


Somersault (Noun); a Falling or Tumbling Head Over Heels

by Verasteine



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Community: help_haiti, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he'll never admit it, he kind of likes having Merlin around. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somersault (Noun); a Falling or Tumbling Head Over Heels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alba17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/gifts).



> **A/N**: written for [](http://alba17.livejournal.com/profile)[**alba17**](http://alba17.livejournal.com/), who bid $15 for this fic at [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/). She asked for Arthur/Merlin sweet lovey dovey schmoop. With kissing and possible sexiness. I hope this is what you had in mind. Thank you very much for your donation!

The first time, Merlin comes quietly, his mouth forming a perfect oh, and Arthur watches him with lidded eyes.

Merlin's the first man he's taken into his bed, ever, and the women were never like this, even if some were silent, too.

Arthur's always preferred the company of men, but thought that was what knights did; it's Merlin, who, with a smile on his face and absently stretching, limber like a cat, says, "I'm just like that."

_That_ goes unnamed, but they both understand what's being said.

Arthur ponders it for a bit, but here's one thing he won't discuss with his father. Destiny is destiny and Camelot Camelot, and Arthur will marry a woman whose sole purpose will be to provide him with heirs. That stands unquestioned.

Merlin rolls onto his side, limber and unselfconscious, dark hair at the nape of his neck curling, damp with sweat, and Merlin makes a satisfied sound.

Arthur envies him his self-possession.

\--

It doesn't stay to just one time, though, because once Arthur has had Merlin, he knows what's underneath the dopey smiles and dopier neckerchief, and Merlin is still around every day, and temptation is strong.

And if tumbling his manservant has become a regular occurrence, by unspoken agreement, they keep what it is to themselves.

It's a surprise, when Uther sends him hunting for bandits in the woods and he doesn't take Merlin with him because it's too dangerous and Merlin's too clumsy, how much he misses Merlin's presence.

Merlin to talk to, Merlin to curl one arm around to anchor him at night, Merlin to laugh at him when Arthur does somewhat foolish (though he'll never admit to missing _that_.)

When he returns, Merlin is waiting in his chambers, and he gives Arthur a shy smile.

"What?" Arthur grumbles, dissatisfied.

"Nothing," Merlin replies, and goes back to stoking the fire.

Arthur makes to sit down at the table and eat his overdue dinner, but changes his mind. What's the point of being the prince if you can't have what you want when you want it? He detours to the hearth and grabs Merlin around the waist, hauling him back against Arthur's body.

Merlin lets out a startled cry, and struggles in his grip. Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss behind Merlin's ear and tickling him. Merlin elbows him sharply, forcing him to let go, and Merlin turns to face him.

They stand, both breathing hard, looking at each other, and the tension makes Arthur fidget.

Then Merlin's face lights up with a smile, he steps forward and takes Arthur's face in both hands, kissing him properly.

Arthur wrestles him to the bed, where they fall on the pristine sheets and roll around until Merlin, grinning, pins Arthur's hands down, and the fight goes out of him because Merlin looks so, so... happy, almost.

He strains up to kiss Merlin, and Merlin chuckles into his mouth.

\--

Winter comes and goes, and Arthur chafes against the snowstorms that keep them indoors. The situation even becomes dire, food a scarcity, and he struggles with the responsibility and Uther's stern instructions about prioritising their army.

His anger has no outlet when he can't even drill with the knights. Merlin lets him grumble and works around him, and when Arthur stares out the window, dusk falling over Camelot, at the clouds gathering on the horizon, Merlin's hands come to rest on his shoulders.

Arthur wants to shrug him off, but doesn't. "We can't keep going like this much longer," he says.

"The weather will change," Merlin replies with his eternal optimism.

"You don't know that," Arthur accuses.

He can feel Merlin shrug. "Spring will come," Merlin replies. "I've seen worse than this."

Arthur looks sideways at that. It's easy to forget, often, that Merlin isn't court born or raised, not sheltered from the harsher elements of life the way most in the castle have been, even the servants. He remembers the hard ground of Ealdor.

Merlin smiles at him when he catches his eyes. "It's not your fault, Arthur."

He looks away. "I wish there was something I could do."

"I know." Merlin's hands squeeze his shoulders briefly. "In the mean time, though..."

"Hmm?"

Merlin lets one hand slide off Arthur's shoulder and down towards his breeches. "There are other things to do on cold winter nights."

Arthur turns his head, intercepts Merlin's insolent mouth with his own, and wraps one arm around Merlin's waist to manhandle him closer.

Merlin slides fingers into Arthur's hair (something he'll never admit to secretly liking), and Arthur grumbles that Merlin is too thin.

Merlin laughs against his mouth, pulling back to look at him, and Arthur watches the light dance in those blue eyes. He slides his hands under Merlin's shirt and touches his warm skin, and Merlin's grin becomes a more intimate smile, and he traces a thumb over Arthur's cheekbone.

Then he leans in and kisses Arthur, tongue sneaking between lips, until Arthur groans and tightens his grip, and Merlin chuckles again.

\--

"I miss my mother," he tells Merlin late one night, when they're both sated and exhausted. The words slip out without thinking about it, and then he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. "I mean, you can't miss something you never had, but--"

Merlin's hand lands on his upper arm, and he glances sideways. "Arthur," Merlin says.

"There's parts of me," he tries to explain, "that are not my father's."

"You think they're your mother's?" Merlin asks.

Arthur nods, throat suddenly dry. "I'd like to have known her," he tries to explain, with all the maturity of a twenty one year old crown prince. "Just to see what she was like."

Merlin lies quietly for a while. "I'd like to have known my father," he says.

Arthur rolls onto his side again, throwing a careless arm over Merlin's waist and hauling him closer. "I know."

Merlin huffs a quiet protest, but settles into the embrace nonetheless.

\--

Spring comes and suddenly there's abundance, and no one looks askance at Arthur when he decides to take a two day hunting trip.

They ride to the east lake together, and Merlin rolls his eyes when they get there and says, "Arthur, we're not going fishing, are we?"

Arthur grins at him. "Why, _Merlin_, afraid you'll fall in?"

He dismounts and Merlin follows, and Arthur tells him to set up camp. Merlin narrows his eyes, looks up at the position of the sun in the sky, and says, "Already?"

Arthur stops, hand on his hip, and shoots back, "You don't ever just do what you're told, do you? Tell me, _Merlin_, do you understand your position, or are you suffering from some strange mental affliction that means you require reminding all the time?"

Merlin grins, goading Arthur's irritation, and says, "You'll never know."

Arthur goes after him then, and Merlin drops the pack he's been holding and runs, startling the horses as he zips past.

He's a strong runner, and Arthur has to chase him through trees and back to the lake, until, within sight of the shore, Merlin trips over a tree root and stumbles down. Arthur pounces, straddling him as Merlin turns back over, his hands on either side of Merlin's head.

"Gotcha," Arthur says triumphantly, and Merlin grins up at him.

It's ridiculous, what seeing Merlin smile does for him sometimes, and this time is no exception. Somewhere in Arthur's chest, something gives a whoop of joy and jumps, making him feel weak and lightheaded.

Merlin lies still on the forest floor, grinning, panting from his exertion, alive and warm beneath him.

Arthur kisses him, because he can't not kiss him, fitting his mouth to Merlin's and feeling Merlin respond with fervour. Arthur lets Merlin take his weight, threading one hand into Merlin's hair, and Merlin rolls them until Arthur is lying on his back, and Arthur lets him do that, too.

They rarely have the time for this, luxuriating in each other's company, and Arthur's glad he decided to take this trip today.

Merlin mumbles something into his mouth, and Arthur pulls away to glare at him. "Speech requires air, _Merlin_," he reminds him.

Merlin licks his lips, and damn, that shouldn't be so fetching. "I said," he replies, unconcerned, "weren't you going hunting?"

Arthur nearly rolls his eyes at that. "This isn't exactly a hunting trip, Merlin."

Merlin stares and blinks. "What? Oh. _Oh_."

Now Arthur does roll his eyes, and silences Merlin's protests with another kiss.

\--

When it's dark and they've built a fire, they sit a little ways away from each other, and stare into the flames.

Arthur pokes the fire with a stick, and Merlin shifts a little, two feet from him.

Arthur glares at him. "Oh, come here."

"Huh?" Merlin looks up. "But--"

"Who's going to see?" Arthur argues. "Get over here."

Merlin moves closer, and Arthur grabs hold of him and pulls him against his side. Merlin shifts, carefully, finally deciding to settle with his back against Arthur's drawn up knees, his head resting on Arthur's right thigh.

Arthur absently settles a hand on Merlin's head and lets his dark, unruly hair slide through his fingers.

Merlin makes a soft sound, like a contented cat, and stretches his long legs.

Arthur looks, unabashed for once, at Merlin, his ridiculous scarf, his slender, narrow frame, long legs, pointy arms with preposterously attractive hands, fingers that sometimes (though again, he'll never admit it aloud) feature in his fantasies.

Merlin looks up at him, gorgeous blue eyes and cheekbones made to cut glass, and Arthur looks back and can't look away.

He's about to say something absurdly stupid, like _you are absolutely beautiful_, so he clamps his mouth shut, hard.

Merlin reaches up with one hand, and strokes soft, gentle fingers over Arthur's jaw.

He sucks in a breath, refusing to admit that his eyes might be misting over a little, and closes his eyes to just revel in Merlin's touch.

"Arthur," Merlin whispers, reverently.

The pressure of Merlin's head on his leg disappears, and he opens his eyes to see Merlin sitting on his knees in front of him. Merlin leans in, kissing his lips, then kissing his jaw and wandering to his neck.

Arthur tips his head back, breathing through his teeth to keep from speaking.

"Arthur..." Merlin whispers again, shifting closer, one hand resting on Arthur's hip. He places his free hand against Arthur's chest and pushes, and Arthur goes back until he's lying on the floor.

Merlin pushes up his shirt and Arthur lets him take it off, lets Merlin kiss down his chest, lick a nipple, rub his cheek over Arthur's abdomen.

Arthur lifts his head, and Merlin gives him a dreamy smile, and Arthur lets him untie his breeches and pull them down. Merlin licks the length of his cock, and Arthur swears quietly at the warm, wet sensation.

Merlin looks up at him again. His warm hand is lying on Arthur's thigh, burning into his skin, and Arthur tries to make his mouth move, finds his jaw locked. After a few tries, he manages to say, "Merlin..."

No further words come out.

Merlin bends his head again, taking Arthur's cock into his mouth, and Arthur's head thumps back to the floor as he gives himself over.

\--

In the morning he wakes in his bedroll alone, and there's no sign of Merlin.

He refuses to panic at that, even though the thoughts start running through his head unprompted. Merlin could have slipped and fallen, he's clumsy like that; there could have been bandits, a poisonous animal, anything, really. This is _Merlin_, after all.

He sits up, rubbing his hand over his face, and sees Merlin standing in the lake, stark naked, splashing water on himself.

Arthur's mouth goes dry; he goes hard.

He's up before he's thinking about it, stripping off his shirt and joining Merlin in the water.

Merlin turns, smiling, his face lighting up in the early morning sunshine. Drops of water cling to his unruly hair, which is standing up in a multitude of directions, and something in Arthur's chest does its tumbler impersonation again.

Merlin blinks when Arthur wades closer, and he can see small droplets cling to Merlin's (ridiculously long) lashes, and he swallows.

"Hi," Merlin says, all innocence and himself (like he doesn't have the first clue about being naked and Arthur being right there in front of him.)

"Shut up," Arthur says.

Merlin laughs at that, easy and carefree. Somewhere in Arthur's chest, the something expands and threatens to grow too large, and Arthur frowns at Merlin.

Merlin wades two steps towards him, settling one hand on Arthur's hip. He lifts the other to run brief fingers over Arthur's mouth, before sliding his wet hand into Arthur's hair. The pads of his fingers rub over Arthur's scalp, and it feels so good, Arthur wants to tell him to never stop.

He clamps his mouth shut again, and Merlin leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his ear. "It's okay," Merlin says softly, hot air on Arthur's skin, "you don't have to say it."

Arthur turns his head, intercepting Merlin's mouth, kissing him hard and insistent.

Merlin kisses back, sliding one leg up around Arthur's waist. Arthur cups his buttock in response, and Merlin moans into his mouth. Arthur probes with one finger, and Merlin pants, breaking away from the kiss. "Yes, yes, please, Arthur," he mutters.

Arthur crooks his finger, finding the right spot and stimulating it, until Merlin trembles in his arms, shuddering with his pleasure.

Arthur kisses him, kisses his (impossible) cheekbones when Merlin starts panting for breath, feeling Merlin's body shake against him. Merlin presses his face to Arthur's shoulder, murmuring intelligible words against his skin. He's rubbing himself against Arthur's thigh, and Arthur is high on this, on Merlin in his arms, hot and wanting (and beautiful) against him, so far gone.

Merlin cries out when he comes, hot liquid against Arthur's leg, and his gasps slow, one arm still around Arthur's neck, cheek against Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur pulls his finger out, letting Merlin put his leg back down, and watches as Merlin lifts his head.

He's flushed, sated, pupils blown and eyes wide.

Arthur grabs his head, kisses Merlin breathless, until Merlin, the sneaky bastard, reaches between their bodies and touches Arthur.

He throws his head back, the image of Merlin's abandon just moments ago not even quite faded into memory, and Merlin wraps those long, slender fingers around his cock and pulls, and Arthur is halfway gone already.

Merlin reaches for him, cradling his jaw in one gentle hand, looking into his eyes and saying earnestly, "Let me _see_."

Arthur swallows, trying to hold Merlin's gaze throughout, watching those pools of blue, the smile that hovers around Merlin's lips, the mixture of pride and affection that only Arthur ever seems to get to see, and gives himself over.

Merlin wrings moans from him, then, and he lets go of the need for silence, for restraint, as Merlin's fingers cup his balls and roll them before sliding back up to the tip, and Arthur lets go altogether on the down stroke, Merlin's fingers tightening to give him exquisite friction.

He grunts out his completion, eyes closing against the tide of sheer _feeling_ that flows through him, and Merlin's fingers stroke his face, softly, before Arthur lets his knees buckle and sinks into the cool water, letting it close over his head.

When he comes up, Merlin is smiling down on him, insolently, the smile becoming a grin, and Arthur lunges for him, Merlin stepping back quickly and slipping in the silty ground.

He goes down with a splash and Arthur grabs him, pulling him into his arms until Merlin fetches up against his chest, spluttering.

Whatever he'd been planning slips from his head at Merlin's face, so close to his. He reaches up to push Merlin's wet hair out his eyes. "I... This..."

Merlin smiles. "It's okay, Arthur."

"No." He takes a breath, then another. "I don't know how long this... we'll have this, but... Know that I want it."

"I know," Merlin replies, fingers curling around Arthur's wrist. "And for the record, I want it, too."

The something inside of him is doing somersaults, and he thinks he's going to do something ridiculously absurd again, but then Merlin kicks out his legs from under him and Arthur goes under once more, spluttering indignantly.


End file.
